Dan's boots crushed the brittle leaves beneath him as he stepped into the Forbidden Forest of Bianzion.
The weight of Xevenruz, the ancient sword of the Bloodstone lineage, pulsed in his grip, responding to the magic that filled the air.
Shadows slithered between twisted trees, and the wind carried the whispers of spirits long since lost to the forest's curse. He did not falter.
Dexivdwyne had already gone ahead, leaving behind everything he had learned, his warnings clear and precise.
The forest will not welcome you. It will try to consume you. But Dan was unfazed. Lifting Xevenruz, he ran the blade across his palm, drawing a thin line of blood.
The crimson essence dripped onto the blade, coating it in the power of his lineage. He felt the sword come alive beneath his grip, humming with restrained energy.
A few stray drops fell onto the ground, vanishing into the darkened soil. Then, the air shifted.
